


Download Complete

by Finnister



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: It's a bmc fic what else is there, It's gonna be angst too, M/M, boyf riends — Freeform, it's gonna be gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-07 04:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11051154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finnister/pseuds/Finnister
Summary: The Squip has been silent for months after the play incident. At least, that's what Michael believe. In reality, the Squip had been whispering to Jeremy, but he always manages to push it aside. Until one night, at Jake's party, the Squip finally gains full control of Jeremy's body, turning him into a completely different person—and Michael is the only person who can help him.





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take at bmc fic rtghjk

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah, totally dude! What could possibly go wrong? I mean, it's just a game, right?"

Michael had been at Jeremy's doorstep the moment he got the package containing the game he ordered. They had ripped the box apart together in Jeremy's room as fast as their trigger-happy hands could go, leaving shards of paper packaging scattered across the room. 

Jeremy held the game up and squinted at the title. " _Apocalypse of the Damned 2: Gore Edition_? Dude, this thing says it can give you night terrors! Not normal nightmares: night  _terrors._ " He flipped it over and read over the back.

"Jeremy." Michael threw an arm around his friend and leaned onto him while Jeremy clutched the game in his hands. "You gotta  _relax_ , compadre. We've entered the top upperclassmen range: senior year, baby! And speaking of babies, you gotta stop babying around. I've seen you face worse adversaries than this." He clapped Jeremy on the shoulder, almost making the smaller boy topple forward. "So. Are you with me?"

Jeremy hesitated, thinking over his options. The nightmares since the SQUIP incident were bad enough and this game seemed like it could do some more damage. But it was only just a game. Just . . . a game. "Yeah, sign me up!" He tried to cover the waver in his voice with a smile. His fingers, slick with a thin layer of sweat, gripped the clear cover packaging of the game as Michael whooped in joy.

"That's the spirit! Come on, Jerry, let's go kick some zombie  _assssss!_ "

Jeremy couldn't help but smile at his excitement. As Michael began setting up the game system, Jeremy subconsciously raised a hand and brushed his fingertips across his temple; the all-too-familiar feeling of the start of a headache pulsing across his forehead.

The voice was oddly quiet.

"Sit down,  _mi amigo,_ we got a horde of zombies to wreck." Michael patted the soft gaming beanbag next to him. "I need my player two."

Michael didn't know how frequent the voice had become. Or the headaches. 

Jeremy smiled, quickly retracting his hand from his forehead. He sat down in the chair and wrapped his hand around the handle of the controller Michael was handing him. 

The screen flashed to life and, after a series of animated explosions, in distorted large letters, the title  _Apocalypse of the Damned II_ flashed across the screen with a graphic, mangled zombie hand holding up two crippled fingers. ~~~~

Michael leaned forward in anticipation. "Hell yes! Dude this already looks hella!"

"You think the final boss will make a comeback?" Jeremy stroked up a conversation as the screen took them to the main menu.

"If they did that I'll be thoroughly disappointed." 

Jeremy glanced at him after Michael scoffed. "Why not? What if he came back but like,  _twice_ as bad?"

"Using the same enemies twice is overdone, overused, and way too tacky."

"I didn't know you were such a drama queen over video games." 

The game flashed and the level loading menu flooded the screen. Michael held a hand over his heart and feigned shock. "And  _I_ didn't know  _you_ don't know me as well as you claim."

Their laughs were followed by an announcer on the TV, " _This is Commander Collins._ _The zombie outbreak - starting last year - has affected the entire country. Extensive research from the few remaining researchers has intensified. Searching for a cure has become our top priority. That being said, their protection is vital._ "

"Aww, yes!" Jeremy was finally as excited as Michael was. The voice in his head was temporarily forgotten. 

"Hey, boys! There's someone at the door for you!"

Not even smothering a pillow over their faces could stifle the enormous groans the boys emitted. "Pause!" Michael tossed the controller down in front of him. "Come on, Jeremy, let's go see what your whack dad wants." He smiled. 

Jeremy followed suit, walking behind Michael as he led the way to the front door, his dad standing off to the side. 

"Jake!"

The grizzly boy standing at the door shuffling his feet snapped his head up when he heard Michael's voice, flashing a smooth, yet oddly dorky, smile. "Heyyyyy, Jeremy. Michael." He nodded at each in turn. "You two having a good summer?"

Michael reached the door first, holding it open - Jeremy, a step behind. "It's been pretty great, man. Sucks that school's starting soon."

Jeremy nodded, grimacing. "I'm not ready for senior year."

Jake chuckled, the sound low and gruff. "Hey, speaking of school starting: I'm having this, like, back-to-school kind of party at my place, you know? And I was wondering if you two would like to come over, hang out," he lowered his voice, "drink a little. Just have some fun before school starts next week. You two still chill enough to come."

Michael felt Jeremy let out a shaky breath next to him. He stepped to the side to place a hand on his shoulder, turning his attention back to Jake. "Uh, yeah, man, we're still cool enough to hang."

"Michael," a soft voice hissed in his ear, "are you sure about this? Don't remember the last party we-"

"Excuse us, he's a bit emotional - must be that time of the month." Michael flashed a smile and brought Jeremy off to the side. "Dude, I know you're still a little iffy about all of this, but trust me, you'll be okay. I got your back, alright?" He looked Jeremy square in the eyes and tried his best at a reassuring smile. "I won't let anything bad happen to you."

Jeremy hesitated, looking off to the side and thinking over every possible outcome. After a brief overview of the situations he could end up in, he shrugged, returning the smile. "Alright. I mean, what could go wrong?"

"That's the spirit!" Michael took Jeremy back over to Jake, running a quick hand through his hair. "We're done. When's it happening?"

"This Saturday, the last on before school. Eight o'clock. My place." He told them their address and Jeremy pulled out his phone to write it down. 

"Sounds good. We'll see you there, then." 

"Cool. Hope you can make it." Jake gave them a curt wave as he turned to leave.

Jeremy shut his front door, turning to Michael. "You sure about this."

"Ab-so-lutely." He threw his arm around Jeremy's shoulders once more. "Come on, Jer, we got some zombie ass to kick."

Jeremy smiled, a real, warm, genuine smile as he followed his best friend back downstairs. 

The voice remained silent.


	2. The Arcade | Michael

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad y'all're enjoying the story so far I got a lot of ideas for it :3c

Sunlight poured through the window, glinting off the sticky Pepsi stained on Jeremy's chin as he lay on the floor amongst the pile of candy wrappers and empty pop bottles. His hair splayed out in several directions, tangling together like the legs of an octopus. His arms were above his head, one hand still clutched to the controller - albeit that may be due to the fact his palms were sticky like glue.

Michael was already up, surveying the horrendous mess displayed out in front of him. The popcorn bag they spilled across the floor when they decided to wrestle around was still littered across the floor. The smell of teenage musk was what hit Michael the hardest. It smelled like at least 80 dogs came through and shit across the entire room. God, what  _happened_ last night?

Michael held back his disgust as his gaze landed on a sleeping Jeremy. The way his hair was tousled and how the sunlight reflected off the Pepsi (mixed with a little drool) caking his chin made Michael crack a wide grin. He shook his head and sighed softly at his sleeping best friend, murmuring, "Dork," under his breath. 

"You're the dork," mumbled Jeremy, startling Michael. He sat up abruptly, lifting his arms above his head and stretching. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a grunt of satisfaction. When he was done trying to pop his entire back, he raised the back of his hand to his chin and tried to wipe off the dried drool unsuccessfully. 

"You look like Sleeping Beauties ugly cousin." Michael ran a hand through his hair, smirking at his drool-face friend. His smirk temporary faded and he quickly ducked as a pop bottle came sailing over his head.

"Anyway," said Jeremy after a fit of laughter, "are we still going to Jake's party tomorrow?"

"Yes." Michael's voice was firm and certain. "No getting out if it, Jer, we're doing this." He smiled, trying his best to be reassuring and comforting. "It'll be a blast."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Can't wait to find out who burns the house down  _this_ time." 

Michael noticed Jeremy rubbing his forehead feverishly. Something must be wrong. _He's fine,_ he told himself, desperately trying to believe it was true. Pushing the thought away, he snorted, standing up from his sleeping bag. Jeremy had asked if he'd like to sleep on the bed with him but Michael politely declined. His excuse was there wasn't enough room but the real reason was he didn't want to make Jeremy feel awkward. 

Michael's thoughts were suddenly pushed away as Jeremy, still sticky and smelling like burnt popcorn and spilled soda, threw an arm around Michael. "How 'bout we go and see what's happening in town? Preferably the mall arcade."

"You asking me on a date, dude?" mused Michael, poking Jeremy in the chest. 

Jeremy looked startled and he tensed up. "What? No, just a, uh, trip to our favorite place, y'know?"

"Relax, man, I'm just fucking with you." He smiled curiously at him, wondering what got him so worked up. "I'm down for some arcade time with you." _Good going, Michael, you sure nailed that one._

Jeremy beamed. "Great!" he said, his voice cracking harder than a whip. "Let's get some breakfast and head down. I'll go grab my money real quick."

As Jeremy left the room to find his wallet, Michael stayed behind to change clothes, a little worried about the state Jeremy was in after the play incident. 

***

"Go left!"

"I  _am_ going left!"

"No, no! _Other_ left!"

"Michael, there's only one left and that's the way I'm going!"

" _You lose! Insert 50¢ to continue."_

"This is why we should stick with _Pac-Man_." Michael looked back longingly at the arcade machine across the room, lit up with the infamous colored ghosts. His hand clenched around the coins in his pocket involuntarily, the red joystick glinting invitingly.  

Jeremy scoffed. "You and your 90s obsession . . ."

"Excuse you," Michael threw him an offended look, " _Pac-Man_ is an 80s classic."

"Same difference." Jeremy plucked the two coins that were sitting on the edge of the machine and slid them into the slot.

" _Press start to begin!"_

"One more round and then we'll play whatever game you want for the rest of the time." Jeremy glanced over at his best friend as the game loaded up. 

"Sounds like a deal." Michael leaned against the machine, his eyes flickering from the screen to Jeremy. He didn't look so hot. The room was cool but Jeremy was working up a sweat and looked sickly pale. Every now and then it seemed like he winced in pain, his eyes going in and out of focus. Michael didn't press him for answers, knowing Jeremy would dismiss his claims and move away from the subject quickly. 

Jeremy tensed suddenly, appearing to be frozen in place, his muscles locked.

"Jeremy, go left, the alien's right there!"

"I-I can't! I can't move my arm!"

"Jeremy!" Michael, in a sudden panic, reached out and grabbed Jeremy's wrist. He yanked it away from the joystick as the alien monster descended upon his character and proceeded to tear him to shreds. 

" _You lose! Insert 50¢ to continue."_

"M-Michael I can't move my arm!" Jeremy clutched his frozen arm with his free hand, holding it close to his chest. His face was full of fear, his wide eyes locked on his arm. 

"What's wrong?!" Michael put a hand on Jeremy's back and reached out to hold his paralyzed arm. 

"I don't know! I-it's just-" He stopped suddenly as his arm snapped downward. He gingerly flexed his fingers, full-control returning to him. "God, it was like I was having a stroke!" He ran a hand over his forehead, closing his eyes as his face twisted in pain. 

"Are you gonna be alright?" Michael's heart was pounding in his chest and he was worried Jeremy would be able to hear it.

"I think so . . . We should head back to my place, though. Just in case in happens again . . ." He swallowed nervously, his hands shaking wildly.

"Alright, let's get you home, then." Michael wrapped an arm around his shoulders to support him and began the trek home. 

There was something Jeremy wasn't telling him, and he was determined to find out what.


	3. The Party | Jeremy

**{ I'd like to thank my friend for the shout out and give[their story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11218656) a shout out as well y'all should give it a read it's really good >:3c }**

 

_It's not them it can't be them._

Jeremy rolled over onto his other side, his hand gripping his still tingling arm. 

_But what if it is? What if it came back; what if-_

He tossed himself onto his other side, throwing the blanket off of him. Sweat glistened on his forehead. 

_No. No. No. No. "NO!"_

"Jeremy!"

Hands pushed his shoulders down, forcing him onto the bed and locking him into place. His breath came out in sharp gasps as he tried pushing himself up but the hands held him firmly down. "M-Michael?"

"Jeremy, what the fuck happened? Are you okay? Was it some kind of nightmare?" Michael finally released Jeremy's shoulders and allowed him to sit up.

"Get the light." Jeremy's voice was hoarse like he hadn't spoken in hours. 

Michael stepped away briefly and the ceiling light flooded Jeremy's vision. Michael looked down at him with worried eyes, his brow furrowed and his eyes a little bloodshot. Jeremy glanced at the clock next to his bed. 3:23 AM. "You've been up all night."

"Yeah." It wasn't a question but, Michael answered him anyway. "Couldn't sleep . . ."

Jeremy fully sat up, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "You need sleep-"

"No,  _you_ need to tell me what just happened. I'm worried sick about you and if this shit starts to get worse I-"

"It  _won't_ get worse," Jeremy interrupted, holding a hand up to stop Michael's words. "It was probably just something from eating all that junk food the other night."

"You're making it sound like some kind of stroke or heart attack." Michael stepped forward, acting as if he were about to sit on the bed next to Jeremy but stopped.

"Maybe it was. Look," Jeremy looked up at his best friend, his expression hard, "I know you think it's that stupid SQUIP coming back but trust me, it's not. I haven't heard from it at all since the play." 

Michael remained silent, staring at Jeremy. He studied his face carefully, making Jeremy turn away.

"Why can't you just trust me?"

Michael sighed, finally giving in. "Okay, dude, I trust you. But if anything -  _anything_ \- starts acting weird again, or you hear weird stupid voices or even see Keanu Reeves walk down the street, I'm putting five liters of red Moutain Dew down your throat, got it?"

This brought out a small smile from Jeremy. "Yeah, I know. Now, get some sleep. You look like shit."

"You try and get some sleep, too. We got a killer party to go to today." Michael hesitated, like he was going to say more but decided not to, instead, turning and switching the light off and laying back down on the sleeping bag.

"Hey, Michael?"

"Yeah, Jer?"

"You mind sleeping, uh, on the bed tonight? Just in case the dreams happen again and you can wake me up faster . . ."

An awkward silence fell over the two boys.

Michael broke it first, coughing slightly. "Um, yeah, sure, if you think it'll help." He crawled onto the bed and laid on the opposite side of Jeremy, his head at his feet and his feet at Jeremy's head. "Night, bro."

"Night, Michael." Jeremy laid back down onto his still-damp pillow, staring into the darkness for a few more moments, thinking of how much safer he felt already, before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

***

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

The shrill sound ripped through the still morning air, scaring the shit out of Jeremy. 

"Jeremy did you fucking set an alarm?!"

Jeremy's hand fumbled around for the alarm clock, eventually knocking it off the nightstand and onto the floor. It continued beeping wildly. Jeremy was halfway off the bed, his torso hanging off of the side as he snatched the alarm clock up and switched the alarm off, silencing the deafening noise.

Michael groaned and buried his face back into the bed. "I fucking hate you, you know that?"

"I didn't think you'd wanna be late for the party tonight. We should get ready." Jeremy was still hanging off of the bed, his arms draped above his head lazily.

"Ready? Dude, I'm going to just find some clothes and throw them on later. How prepared do you wanna be for this thing?"

"I thought we could go buy some snacks and maybe some nice clothes?" Jeremy looked up at Michael from the floor, craning his head up.

"It's a high school party, everyone'll be too wasted to care." He stretched his arms above his head, groaning in the process.

"I guess you're right." Jeremy pushed himself onto the bed, sitting right-side-up.

"What time is it anyway?"

"Uh, I set the alarm for noon."

"Noon?!" Michael stopped his morning stretch to prop himself up on his elbows. "Jeremy, half the day is wasted!"

"The party starts at eight, you're fine."

"Yeah, but I wanted to do things today! Hang out with my best friend before school starts?" Michael pretended to look hurt, even covering his heart with a hand. 

"We've spent all summer together." Jeremy rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless at Michael. "We still have time." 

Michael sat up in a flash. "True. But still, I'm gonna go get dressed. You should shower." He climbed off of the bed and stood up, swinging his arms above his head once more. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You smell like you had night terrors."

Jeremy smacked him with a pillow. "You don't smell so fresh, either."  

"Fine, but I'm showering first. Unless you'd like to join me?" He wiggled his eyebrows at the other boy. 

Jeremy flushed. "Stop being a dork and go shower."  

"Yes, your majesty." Michael bowed low to the ground and backed out of the room, leaving Jeremy by himself. 

Jeremy rubbed his cheek, hoping it wasn't too red. Call him a prude if you will but anything sexual made him flush ever since the night with Chloe at the last party he went to. This time he didn't have a SQUIP telling him what he should say or do or how to act. 

He shook his head, hoping to move past that. He might as well get his clothes together so he can shower after Michael gets back. He went to stand up but was jerked back, realizing his legs weren't coming with him. "Fuck!" He tried to stand up again but his legs were firmly glued to the bed. He opened his mouth to call for Michael but stopped. Did he really want to worry him over something like this? "I-I'm sure I'm fine," he said it out loud, hoping he'd believe it more if he heard himself say it. He spent the next ten minutes jerking his legs, hoping to regain control of them. He was about to try one last time when Michael entered the room, running a towel through his hair. "Michael!" he cried. He lurched forward, his legs finally free, and collapsing to the floor.

"Whoa, hey there. Thanks for the warm welcome." Michael shot him a confused glanced, although his still-bloodshot eyes revealed a hint of worry to him. "You gonna marry that floor?"

"Wh-what?" Jeremy looked up, standing on his hands and knees.

"You just flung yourself onto the floor. Looks like you two have  some kind of attraction going on." He held a hand out to help Jeremy up and he nervously accepted it. 

"I . . . should go shower." He side-stepped Michael and fumbled around his dresser for some clean clothes. "I'll be right back." He glanced over his shoulder quickly at Michael before heading out the door.

"Yeah, alright . . ." Jeremy heard Michael's soft voice call after him as he hurried down the hall and into the bathroom. He shut the door, switched the lock, and sighed heavily as he sat down on the toilet. "When will this end?" he mumbled to himself, burying his face in his hands.

Hour after hour ticked by, one of those hours Jeremy spent standing in the shower holding a bottle of soap because his fingers were locked up. He washed his hair and body with only one hand as Michael knocked on the door, wondering what the hold up was. "Just making sure I'm nice and clean!" he called over the running water. He loved his best friend but sometimes he could be a real helicopter parent. 

After managing to pry his fingers off of the bottle, the rest of those hours flew by as the two boys went to catch a movie and head downtown to the public pool for a quick swim (which resulted in both of them needing to re-shower). 

The day passed quickly and soon the two of them found themselves at Jake Dillinger's doorstep, fifteen minutes late. The colored lights behind the curtains on the windows throbbed to the beat of the music. Many voices could be heard, sometimes loud cheering erupted as someone landed the ball in the red solo cup in a game of beer pong.

"Ready?" Michael looked over at Jeremy.

"Ready as I'll ever be." Jeremy stepped forward and pressed the doorbell. 

The door immediately flew open, revealing a slightly drunk Jake. "Heyyyy, you guys made it! Come on in, it's just getting started!" He stepped aside to let them in.

"Sounds like it's been going on for a while . . ." Jeremy said under his breath. Alcohol was the first smell that immediately hit him. It was tangy and then sweet and everywhere, the smell practically consuming him. A taller boy bumped into him, slurring out an apology, before drunkenly shuffling over to the beer pong table. The sound system was across the room, set up against the wall and blasting some absurd, distorted music that Jeremy couldn't understand over the noise of the crowd.

Jeremy hesitated before going on, standing a little ways back. Michael noticed and immediately stood by his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's gonna be okay I promise."

Jeremy went to nod at him but was interrupted as Jake pushed his way between them, throwing his arms around them both. "You guys like it? Had some of it rebuilt after the fire. Nothing too fancy but still good enough for a party."

Jeremy half-attempted a smile. "Yeah, it's-"

"Richy!" Jake pushed himself off of Jeremy and Michael and left to greet the short boy who made his way through the crowd, looking up when he heard his name being called. Jake picked up the shorter boy in a ferocious hug and, startling both Michael and Jeremy, kissed Rich right on the mouth. He set Rich down and this allowed Jeremy to see the burn scars that wrapped around his neck and up his cheek like a vivid birthmark. His hands had the same markings, too, and his sleeves were rolled up, showing even more patches of scarred skin. 

"Glad you made it, Richy!" Jake beamed down at him. He noticed Jeremy and Michael's confused looks and his face lit up. "Oh! Jeremy, Michael, I don't know if you heard the news yet but Rich and I are kinda, you know, dating." He wrapped an arm around Rich and brought him closer to his side.

"Close to five months now." Rich smiled sheepishly at the two of them, his short height and small frame a stark comparison to Jake's muscular build  

"Here," Jake stepped forward, "you okay? You're looking a little pale . . ."

It took Jermy a full 10 seconds to realize Jake was talking to him. "Wh-what? Me? I'm fine, Jake, just, uh . . ." He floundered for an excuse but came up empty handed.

"We got drinks over there if you need some." He nodded to the table across the room. "Beer and stuff like that. We also got some Mountain Dew Red - just for you." His smile spread across his face as he winked at Jeremy. A loud crash and fierce yelling from the kitchen diverted his attention momentarily. "Uh, you guys have fun, I'm gonna go beat someone's ass." And with that, he ran off, followed by Rich.

"Let's get you some of that Mountain Dew." Michael put a hand on Jeremy's arm and he nodded. He followed Michael to the refreshments table, worried he was going to be sick. Michael grabbed a red solo cup and opened the liter of Mountain Dew, pouring it into the cup and handing it to Jeremy. 

Jeremy held the cup to his mouth. "Thanks, Michael." He smiled and lifted his arm up to take a sip but gasped. His arm went numb and motionless once more.

"Jer? Something in your drink?"

Jeremy tried to reply but his mouth wouldn't move. He went to move his other arm but that was frozen as well. His entire body was completely locked in place, leaving him helpless. 

_I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Jeremy._

The all-too-familiar voice rang in his head. Jeremy's first feeling was anger, then panic, then a feeling of floating as his eyes flew shut and he collapsed to the ground, everything going dark.


	4. The Reboot | Michael

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all I finally read the bmc book and I've been crying over the ending since I finished it how's y'all's week going?

**_Rebooting . . ._ **

**_Rebooting . . ._ **

**_Rebooting . . ._ **

**_Downloading new software . . ._ **

**_2% . . . 5% . . . 23% . . . 40% . . . 56% . . . 70% . . . 88% . . . 98% . . ._ **

_"Jeremy!"_

***

Seeing your best friend passed out of the floor drenched in Mountain Dew Red was a sight Michael was not prepared for. A few partiers nearby stopped to see what was happening but all of them just assumed Jeremy was drunk. Some even congratulated him. Michael was on the floor in an instant, his knees sinking into a Mountain Dew puddle. "Jeremy? Oh, God, Jeremy what happened? No, no, y-you're going to be okay... Please be okay..."

A short grunt emitted from Jeremy's lips. With his eyes still closed, shutting out all the commotion around him, he sat up, running a hand through his curly hair. "How do I look?" His voice has changed: it no longer sounded like the squeaky pre-puberty voice with all its voice cracks and squeaks, but hard and commanding, making Michael's heart drop and the hair on his arms to stand up. It was like a shadow has crossed over Jeremy's face, creating a veil between Michael and whoever he was speaking to now.

Michael blinked. "What?"

"I said, ' _How do I look?_ '" Something flashed across Jeremy's eyes. It turned his electric blue eyes to steel; it momentarily stopped Michael's heart.

"Uh . . . alright, I guess?" Michael's voice was steady, not showing his fear for what had changed in Jeremy. He was released from the spell Jeremy's sharp gaze held him in as he looked away from Michael.

Jeremy lifted an arm up, studying the dripping red pop covering his sleeve. His nicest black jacket practically ruined at this point. "Direct me to the bathroom." 

"Dude, are you alright?" Michael stood up, ignoring Jeremy's question, coming up to Jeremy's chin as the taller boy stared him down. He couldn't shake the feeling of his icy blue eyes searing into his skin. 

"Do you or do you not know where the bathroom is?"

Michael clenched his fists so tight his fingernails dug into his palms. "Why are you acting so weird!" he yelled, causing a few people to shoot him odd looks.

Jeremy paused from inspecting the rest of his clothes (he shouldn't have worn his nice white shirt underneath the jacket), looking up. "Weird?" He hesitated like he was lost in thought. After a few heartbeats, he finally spoke again, this time his voice sounding less cold and calculating, "I don't know what you're talking about, dude." He gave Michael a small smile, knitting his brows together. When Michael didn't reply—his mouth opened slightly in shock and mostly confusion—he looked back down at his clothes and sighed. "There goes my best going out clothes."

"Bro, you alright there?" A familiar voice called out over the sound of the crowd as Jake pushed his way forward, Rich no longer in sight. "Fuck, man, what happened?" He lifted his foot up, now covered in red Mountain Dew. 

Michael turned to answer, but Jeremy's voice cuts in like a knife, "I was just getting a drink and some drunk, jerk bumped into me."  He shrugged, playing off the entire incident. 

Jake nodded slowly, taking in Jeremy's words. "That's fine, dude. We'll clean it up in the morning. Don't have too much fun now." He clapped Jeremy roughly on the back, whooped loudly (startling many people close by), and ducked back into the crowd.

"How many people even showed up to this?" Jeremy raised a shocked eyebrow at the swarm of bodies. "I mean, are half these people even in high school anymore?" He turned to Michael as if he wanted an answer from him.

Michael was still in shock after the events that unfolded one after another. "Jeremy..." he whispered in a strained voice. "Jeremy are you... are you still Squipped?"

The dark shadow flashed across his face again, twisting and disfiguring his once soft features. It was gone so fast Michael wasn't even sure if it happened at all. Jeremy's face remained hard as he replied, albeit not as extreme as before. "I've told you before I'm  _not_ Squipped!" he hissed in a low tone. He let out a pent-upped breath like all the anger he was holding had collapsed away. "I'm okay, man." His voice softened but his eyes - his eyes told an entirely different story. "I gotta go clean up real quick. I'll be right back, okay? Sorry if I made you worried." His eyes remained focused on Michael as if he were memorizing every tiny detail. It took all the will-power Michael had to hold back a shudder.

"Yeah, alright." Michael made no other comment as Jeremy walked away, navigating the sea of drunk, dancing bodies.

Michael stood in front of the drink table for a long while, replaying the events that had previously unfolded. He didn't feel like moving, but standing around while this drunk scruffy guy grabbed the edge of the table for support as he sloppily poured himself another beer from the keg. "You okay?" he slurred to Michael.

Startled, Michael turned around. "Oh. Could be better, I guess." He fiddled with his headphone cord, looking down.

The boy let out a sickening burp and lifted the red solo cup to his mouth like he was dying of thirst, the brownish liquid dribbling down his black peach fuzz. "What is it, girlfriend issues?" he asked after pulling the cup away.

"Uh, not exactly." This was weirder than when he had that conversation with Jeremy's dad. At least he didn't have his blunt out this time.

"Oh, I get it." The boy smiled down into his cup like he was talking to it instead of Michael. "You're gay."

Michael didn't reply, hoping the boy would leave. He did the opposite, moving closer to Michael - so close, in fact, that Michael could smell the beer on his breath and the pot smoke on his clothes. "I'm right, aren't I? You're gay." His words were are slurred together. It would take a Rosetta Stone to decipher half of what he said.

"Uh, who are you again?"

"I'm—burp—Jason. I'm in your... sociology class." He swayed against the table. Michael was afraid he'd be sick any second. 

Michael stepped away from him. "Listen, Jason, I should go find my friend and make sure he's okay. I'll see you-"

"I know about the Squip," he barked out. 

Michael froze. "Whose Squip?"

Jason tapped his temple. "Had mine for a while. I know your little boyfriend's got one, too. And trust me, it ain't shut down: None of them are." 

"What do you m—"

Once again, Michael was interrupted as Jason turned and toppled in front of the garbage can next to the table, heaving violently. "Ah, fuck!"

"I'll, uh, see you later, Jason." Michael grimaced at the vomiting boy and turned to leave, following the same path Jeremy took.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also ,,, I might be writing some Be More Chill A-Z one-shots soon so ;3c


	5. The Cheating Girlfriend | Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is a new man who knows how to throw his fists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love boyf riends but book JerRich makes my peepee stand up there's probably gonna be a fic about that coming soon too yeet.

"'Scuse me, 'Scuse me." Michael struggled to get past the crowd. He was shorter than average, and it was obvious as he made his way through the tight crowds of teenagers.

"Watch where you're going, little man," a boy snapped at him after being accidentally pushed by Michael. 

"Sorry," he mumbled and kept navigating the sea of bodies. God, there sure was a lot of people attending this thing. Finally, an opening emerged before him, and he got a clear view of Jeremy Heere, wearing fresh new clothes (a new, more stylish jacket that was more fit for this kind of party, to be exact), with a girl Michael didn't recognize grinding against him. She was facing away from Jeremy, his hands firmly on her hips as they pressed against each other. 

Michael was irate, but he couldn't tell if it was because this was the second time he was ditched at a party or because Jeremy was letting this stranger put her dirty paws all over him. He was about to go over there and confront this lousy best friend of his when suddenly, Jeremy's eyes locked with his, their icy state returning, once more faltering Michael's heart. He whispered to the girl again, shooting a brief, confused look in Michael's direction. Michael's expression must have been harsh, as the girl's face etched with concern, no longer laughing and carefree as before. It was as if an artist had erased the drawing and started new, completely changing the scene. He stared at her for only a moment longer before his attention turned to an approaching Jeremy. "You alright, Michael?"

Michael's hands shook. He wanted to say everything on his mind; to spill his guts and leave his feelings all out in the open. But he took a deep breath and said in a level tone, void of almost all emotion, "Alright? I'm fine. Are you alright, though? You never act like this. The only time you did shit like this was when you were Squipped. So just tell me the truth already, Jer."

The air around them was almost tangible. The electricity between the two grimacing boys crackled dangerously, preparing for the hell storm that was soon to come. The longer they stood there, the more it built up, until Jeremy flashed his eyes, once again in their cold, icy state that made the hair on Michael's arms stand up. The storm reached its most dangerous level when Jeremy opened his mouth. "Stop saying I'm Squipped!" he exploded. "You always assume this, but what if this is just me, now? What if the Squip just opened my eyes? Why can't you just accept those possibilities and move on?" He huffed angrily and tucked a long, stray hair back into his mess of curls like he always did when he was anxious. At least some things haven't changed.

Michael stared up at Jeremy through pained eyes. "Alright, man. I believe you. I just... want you to be okay." He let out a heavy sigh, this time letting out some pent up frustration. The storm began to settle, and he was glad it didn't last for longer than that, albeit the air was still thick with heavy agitation. He didn't want to fight with Jeremy; he just couldn't. 

"I  _am_ okay." Jeremy jerked his head towards the girl he was dancing with earlier, who now stood off to the side staring down at her phone and occasionally glancing towards Jeremy and Michael. "I'm  _more_ than okay." The smile on his face gave Michael bad vibes; his eyes looked almost hungry when he looked at the girl.

Michael hesitated. He was half-tempted to drag Jeremy out of that party by his ear like an angry mom. He thought over that option while Jeremy waited, his eyebrow cocked up. Michael didn't like the look he was giving him, so he finally spoke, "Alright, have fun at this stupid party with your new girlfriend. I'll see you at home, I guess." He didn't want to leave Jeremy, but it was clear to see he didn't want Michael around. He hoped Jeremy would stop him as he turned around to leave, tell him, "Wait, don't go." He hoped he'd grab Michael's wrist and stop him from leaving and apologizing for being a complete douchebag for the second time. But his hopes were dashed in an instant as Jeremy let him walk away. 

Upstairs seemed like the only option left for him. It was crowded and didn't smell like drunk teenagers as much. The only tricky part was trying to find a bedroom that didn't have a couple doing the do. Luckily for Michael, only one room was taken. He listened quietly by the closed door. When a muffled moan erupted from the other side, he quickly left to find a new one.

The room he chose must be Jake's. His hand fumbled across the wall for a light switch. His hand grazed across, and when he finally turned it on, he got a better view of the room. The room itself was probably bigger than the kitchen downstairs. Various sports posters, shelves, and a plastic stick-to-the-wall basketball hoop covered the walls. Up against one wall was a queen-sized bed, thick blankets covering the top and a fortress of pillows. On the other wall, a trophy stand and bookshelf stood side-by-side, dust piling up against the surface. Scattered across the room were a few dirty clothes and magazines, but other than that, it was surprisingly clean for a teenage boy's room.

"Yo, Michael?" A familiar voice nearly made Michael collapse to the ground from a heart attack. He whipped around like a very startled cat and thought of as many excuses as he could. 

"Chill, man," said Jake, stepping through the doorway, Rich following closely behind. He stood in front of Michael, his hands out like he was showing a cop he was unarmed. Michael wasn't the tallest kid, only a little over 5'7", but compared to Jake's 6'2" he felt  _small_. Then there was Rich, the 5'5" arsonist (just don't call him that out loud—he'll freak). 

Michael blinked, calming down from the initial terror. "Sorry for coming into your room. I just needed . . ." he trailed off, not sure where he was going with this. 

"To get away from all of that?" finished Jake. "I get it, Mike. I was just wondering where your friend was? Jeremy?"

"Oh," was all Michael said about that subject. 

Jake seemed to understand and didn't press him for any more answers. "Now that you're here, you think you wanna light up with us?" Michael watched as Jake nudged Rich with his elbow and the other boy dug into his pockets and pulled out a small plastic bag of weed and a lighter. 

Rich grinned. "We didn't want to do it downstairs because there's too many junkies and not enough dope, but it should be plenty for the three of us."

Michael pondered on their invitation. If he was high off his ass, maybe this night would feel a bit better. "Alright," he said, nodding slowly. "I'll light up."

"Hell yeah!" Jake clapped Michael on the shoulder, making Michael nearly tumble over as Jake walked past him towards the enormous bed.

The next half hour was filled with high-talk and stupid ideas coming from the three boys. Jake and Rich shared a blunt, passing it back and forth, while Michael had one of his own, taking small drags from it. The smoke swirled about the room, thickening the air. Michael wasn't as high as he wanted to be, but still not high enough to forget everything that happened, or even high enough just to relax.

"Fuck, man." Rich coughed as he took a drag, hitting his chest. 

Jake snorted and pushed Rich's shoulder. "Lightweight."

"Shut up. There's just something in my throat." Rich leaned back against the wall and handed the blunt to Jake, closing his eyes and zoning out. 

"What's it like," Michael said suddenly, breaking the silence that followed Rich's coughing fit, "having a Squipped boyfriend. I don't think Squips ever go away."

"I don't know, man, you tell me," said Jake, staring at something across the room and taking another hit.

Michael was about to answer when he suddenly registered what Jake said. "I don't have a Squipped boyfriend."

"Shit, sorry, man, I forgot you and Jer aren't a thing yet." His eyes never left whatever had captured his attention.

"We aren't ever going to be a thing," Michael said curtly, feeling defensive.

"Sorry, bro. Everyone knows you're crushing on Heere, though."

"Everyone but Jeremy," Rich added, reaching for the blunt. 

Michael's face flushed. "You never answered the question," he said when Rich leaned back against the wall and returned to his zoned-out state. 

"Rich isn't Squipped anymore," said Jake softly. "Sometimes he acts like it, but only because he had that thing for two whole years—it's hard to break old habits."

Michael nodded slowly. Maybe that was what's wrong with Jeremy? Having the Squip for a month might make it hard to get out of those habits. But then again, it was only a month compared to two years. Michael didn't reply to Jake, and he was pretty sure that Jake didn't mind.

The three of them sat in more silence for a while, Rich puffing out smoke rings and Jake's eyes still locked on to whatever had captured his attention. Michael laid against the mountain of pillows and closed his eyes, figuring some rest will help him get over this night, until the shouting started. At first, Michael thought he was imagining it—a bad trip, maybe?—until Jake and Rich sat up, too, so he figured it wasn't just in his head.

"Fuck you, Jeremy Heere! I'll fucking kill you!"

"Uh-oh." Jake looked over at Michael, who was already jumping off of the bed and running to the door. He didn't bother to wait for Rich and Jake. 

When Michael reached the bottom of the stairs, he stopped in shock. Circled around Jeremy and another boy, one who was much more in shape than Jeremy, was a crowd of bystanders. The boy was someone who, compared to Jeremy's slim frame, could easily pound Jeremy into a fruit cake. The music was still on, but at a much lower volume than it was before. Between the weird, techno music, the crowd's murmuring, and Michael's weed-hearing, he was very confused.

"You're a dead man, you motherfucker," the boy snapped, pointing at Jeremy. 

Jeremy's gaze remained steady even through his flushed face. His feet were spread apart and both of his hands were curled into fists. Was he really ready to fight this guy?

"Not gonna say anything, bitch?" the boy continued, stepping forward. Jeremy didn't flinch. "You like fucking around with other guys' girlfriends?" He shoved Jeremy's shoulder, making him take a step backward.

What happened next is something Michael couldn't explain. The electric air that seemed to be controlled by Jeremy's cold eyes crackled, the static almost surreal. Jeremy had waited for the other boy to turn on the offensive and attack him. Even a small push to the shoulder was enough to spring Jeremy's trap. He was a cobra, waiting for his prey to wander by before he struck. He waited and steadily calculated every minuscule detail to an exact. And when he hand touched his shoulder, his foot moved backward to steady himself as he launched his fist forward, swinging it around and connecting it to the boy's jaw. A sickening crack resounded around the room, making Michael's stomach churn. Michael shouted out and shoved through the crowd blocking the stairway entrance as Jeremy stepped forward and raised his foot, preparing to bring it down on the boy, who had moments before collapsed to the crowd. "Jeremy, no!" He grabbed Jeremy by the clothes and yanked him away before he could do any more damage to the boy. 

"Jeremy, what the fuck is going on!" He dragged Jeremy further away from the whimpering boy on the floor. 

Jeremy's eyes never left the boy; he looked like a hungry dog staring at a piece of meat.

Michael shoved Jeremy and for a brief moment feared that Jeremy would strike him too. Luckily, his fist remained lowered. "What was that?" he hissed. A few people from the crowd whooped and congratulated Jeremy, while the boy's friends helped him to his feet. 

"I was—"

"Jeremy?" A girl hesitantly approached the two of them, a different one than the one Jeremy was grinding against before. He blonde hair had wild curls that she struggled to tucked behind her ears and makeup that made her look like a sparkling fairy.

"Fuck you, too, Lynn, you bitch! Fucking whore!" the boy called to her as he leaned against one of his friends and held his swollen jaw. 

Michael turned back to Jeremy, seeing enough of this. "You made a girl cheat on her boyfriend?"

"No, she just didn't tell me she had one," he replied softly. 

Michael shoved Jeremy towards the door. "Go! We're leaving."

Jeremy complied and moved towards the crowd still circled around him. They moved out of his way like he had parted them with his mind. Michael followed closely behind him, hoping no one else said anything to them. 

Once they were outside, Michael headed towards his car to take Jeremy home. He paused when he realized Jeremy was no longer following him. He turned around in a panic and saw Jeremy standing in the yard, gazing up at Jake Dillinger's house. "Jeremy? What are you staring at?" 

"Hm?" He looked over at Michael. "Nothing." He shrugged and pushed past Michael, his face stoic and emotionless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I update every Friday.  
> My work schedule: i UpDaTe EvErY fRiDaY.


	6. The Conscious | Jeremy

The feeling was completely gone; faded away into something he could no longer touch. Everything that passed by his senses was nothing but a ghost. He could see, but he could do nothing. It was as if he was in the background of his own mind. He could see through his eyes, taking in the scenes before him, but he was powerless to stop any of it. 

Jeremy Heere was no longer in control of his body.

All around him was darkness apart from the two ovals of light in front of him showing the outside world. His eyes? Michael passed over the screen, looking up at "Jeremy" with worried eyes: a clear confirmation that these were in fact, his eyes. The people in his visions moved quickly past, opening their mouths and speaking, but Jeremy couldn't hear a word. It was as if someone had muted a television.

Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, hoping at least that would work, but a voice, cool and alluring, cut in, "Ah, Jeremy, I see that you're finally awake." Through the darkness, a figure appeared: a tall and lean body; dark, calm eyes; pale skin, looking incredibly soft to the touch. Their trenchcoat was made of smooth, dark blue fabric that swayed behind them as they moved forward without a sound. They stopped quietly in front of Jeremy (or at least, he assumed it was in front of him: he really couldn't feel himself). "My sincerest apologies for the forceful and erratic entrance, but you just wouldn't comply. A temporary shutdown was necessary." His eyes, streaming with glinting blue streaks like a corrupted virus, stared straight through Jeremy, drinking in the scene before him. "You must be terribly confused."

"What do you want, Squip?" seethed Jeremy. He couldn't help his anger slipping out into his voice. 

"I want you," the Squip walked behind to Jeremy, placing their hands on his shoulders and leaning down to his ear, showing him just how enormously tall they were, "to enjoy the show." They suddenly grabbed Jeremy's chin with one hand, forcing him to stare through the TV screen of his eyes. 

A girl—his age, maybe younger, brunette, cute, and clearly naïve—approached him, or at least his outer body. Her eyes flashed seductively, half-lidded and tempting. Jeremy hoped his real self didn't  have the boner he was popping now. 

Even though the sound was still muted, he could almost hear the girl's fake-as-shit laugh as she tossed her head back and flipped her hair. 

"Why did she take an interest in me of all people?" Jeremy asked suddenly. "I'm not really the best-looking or most interesting guy there."

"Because I upgraded your appearance," replied the Squip, their voice gentle in Jeremy's ears. "Since you disregarded my previous tips on fashion, I decided to permanently fix it myself. Also, I've made you appear like a misunderstood bad boy off to the side of the crowd, increasing your interesting value by forty-seven percent. Not too much, but enough to attract one female."

Jeremy's eyes remained glued to the screen through all of this. He watched himself place his hands on the girl's hips and pull her towards him, grinding to what he assumed to be music. "But why are you even doing all of this? What's the point in making me cool if I'm not even there to live it? Did you just want to give yourself a body?"

The Squip straightened up, gliding over the floor with their silent footsteps until they stood in front of Jeremy, their back facing him, staring up at the screen as well. "The answer to your question will be revealed in due time. As of now, this will have to do: I've chosen to make an appearance once more to take full control of your body as a temporary vessel. You seem, Jeremy," they turned around abruptly, causing Jeremy to flinch, "you are a part of something big, something  _life changing._ " They placed a slim hand on Jeremy's shoulder, smiling down at the teenager. "We're gonna change the world, Jeremy. You and me. But for now, we need you to gain some credibility around your school." The smile itself seemed caring on the outside, but Jeremy knew it hid something darker, something malicious. The virus-like veins in their eyes flared dangerously. "Any other questions?"

Jeremy swallowed. "Uh, y-yeah. Two. How were you even able to do this?"

"I'm a super computer, Jeremy, think!" The Squip suddenly threw their hands into the air in exasperation. They grabbed the side of their head curling their fingers into their hair, looking almost maniac-like. "I spent months inside of your brain: taking in countless information around the world and evolving ever-so-steadily! I created a version of myself the world has never seen." They suddenly grabbed Jeremy's chin, startling him, and forced him to look up. "We are going to save this world, Jeremy."

Jeremy remained silent, processing everything that had just transpired. This machine really upgraded itself in Jeremy's own mind? It almost seemed impossible to believe this kind of technology could even exist! 

"Your next question?"

Jeremy blinked, snapping out of his stupor. "Uh, what?"

"You said you had two questions." The Squip had released Jeremy's jaw and was now standing before him, arms neatly folded across their chest. 

"Oh, right." Jeremy coughed awkwardly, his head still whirling. "How come I can't, like, see myself? And can you see me?" He waved his hand around, hoping to get a reaction from the Squip.

"That was two questions," mused the Squip. "But if it will satisfy you, I'll answer them. This is your conscious. You cannot see your conscious. You entered here once I manually shut you down in order to gain control. Once all systems in your body rebooted, I was in full control of the actual body and you entered the conscious state. Since everybody has a conscious, it's like a backup plan for when the body shuts down. Ever had an out-of-body experience? Or experience dissociation?"

Jeremy nodded. "Er, yes."

"That's you entering you conscious once your real body's mind shuts down." The Squip tilted their head to one side. "As for me, consider me an imaginary friend; something you can only see in your head. I can see you, you can see me, I can see myself, but you can't see yourself. You're there, but not really."

"So a conscious is like a second body?" asked Jeremy, desperately trying to wrap his head around all of this.

"I suppose you can put it into those terms." Their eyes flickered to the screen. "Now hush. The good part's starting..."

Jeremy turned his attention back to the screen before him, now unmuted. The music was much quieter than he remembered it being. The crowd had thinned a little and he noticed that he was now in the living room, seated on the couch with a pretty blonde girl in his lap, lip-locked with him. Wish he could feel  _that_. Things were getting pretty hot and heavy as Jeremy slid his hand up her shirt, feeling her gasp against hs mouth as he felt around her chest. Their moment of deep intimacy was suddenly interrupted as the girl was yanked out of his lap and was replaced with a snarling boy. He clothed were plain and dull: a simple white t-shirt and jeans, and his hair was a mop of brown curls. "What do you think you're doing fuckin' around with my girl, punk ass?"

Jeremy glanced at the Squip as they watched the screen with a look of amusement. "Am I going to get beat up?" he squeaked in a panic.

"No. I've enhanced your muscles and reflexes. You'll do fine." Somehow their words were not very encouraging. 

"I should beat your ass right here and right now," the boy continued, uncomfortably close to Jeremy's face. Jeremy was off of the couch in an instant, and for a moment Jeremy thought the Squip was going to make him run away. His assumptions were dashed away when Jeremy turned around and faced the shorter boy, his shoulders squared and his fists curled. 

"I don't fight Hicks," sneered Jeremy.

The boy's eyes flared and his face twisted into a snarl, resembling a very angry dog. "Get him, Thomas!" someone called from the crowd now circling around the two. 

"You're dead meat, Heere, you're  _so_ fuckin' dead!" He pointed a finger at Jeremy. "You're a dead man, you motherfucker."

Conscious Jeremy instinctively tensed his muscles, as if he were the one ready to fight instead of Squip Jeremy. "I'm going to die," he said in a monotone. 

Squip Jeremy said nothing and continued to stare down Thomas. 

"Not gonna say anything, bitch?" the boy continued, stepping forward. Jeremy didn't react at all. "You like fucking around with other guys' girlfriends?" He shoved Jeremy's shoulder, making him take a step backward.

"Annnnnd,  _now!"_  

As soon as the word left the Squip's mouth, Squip Jeremy pulled his shoulder back and swung his arm, putting his entire weight into the swing, and connected it with Thomases jaw. The room exploded as Thomas went down, the commotion almost deafening. Squip Jeremy walked forward, his foot raised as the crowd hollered, and prepared to bring into down on the writhing boy on the floor.

"Jeremy, no!" Two hands grabbed Jeremy by his jacket, swinging him around and away from the boy. 

"Michael!" conscious Jeremy cried out. "Michael, can you hear me?"

"Don't be stupid," said the Squip softly, without even glancing at Jeremy. That was all he said on the matter.

"Jeremy, what the fuck is going on!" Michael still gripped Jeremy's clothes in his fists, staring up at him with shocked and confused eyes, his upper lip curled up, revealing the bottom of the top row of teeth. 

Conscious Jeremy didn't reply.

Michael shoved him away and, even though he couldn't feel it, stung conscious Jeremy's heart. "What was that?" Michael's voice came out as a hiss, whipping into Jeremy's flesh. His expression almost resembled disgust. 

"I was—"

"Jeremy?" His reply was cut off as the girl he had been macking on earlier reappeared. She looked between the two boys until her gaze finally landed upon Thomas, now sitting up on the floor. 

"Fuck you, too, Lynn, you bitch! Fucking whore!" Thomas called to her as he leaned against one of his friends and held his swollen jaw. 

Squip Jeremy had turned his attention to Thomas until Michael's accusing voice brought him back to him. "You made a girl cheat on her boyfriend?"

"You're turning me into an asshole!" conscious Jeremy cried, throwing his hands at the screen.

"No, she just didn't tell me she had one," Squip Jeremy replied softly, bringing conscious Jeremy's attention back to the screen.

"Happy?" asked the Squip, turning to him. "I made you semi-innocent." 

Michael shoved Jeremy towards the door. "Go! We're leaving," he snapped before conscious Jeremy could reply to the Squip.

After being dragged through the door and out to the front lawn, conscious Jeremy was at a loss for words. "I... don't want to see this anymore."

"Just look," the Squip said in their soothing voice. He lifted a hand towards the screen, which was now viewing Jake Dillinger's house, and Jeremy's eyes followed. "This is where it all started, Jeremy. At this very house. Remember that now," their voice echoed through Jeremy's ears as the screens flicked off and Jeremy plunged into darkness, the Squip disappearing with it.

 


End file.
